


Writ in silence and shame

by avaloncat555



Category: W.I.T.C.H.
Genre: Character Study, Dysfunctional Family, Elyon is teen and teens feel awful and are awful and make mistakes, Exhaustion, Ficlet, Gen, Guilt, Headcanon, Introspection, Light Angst, Matriarchy, Oneshot, Phobos is edgy selfish asshole, Poor Life Choices, Regret, Self-Doubt, Sexism, Siblings, Unreliable Narrator, What-If, Wistful, but ah the queen has no such right, who denies ever feeling vulnerable or having regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26432833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avaloncat555/pseuds/avaloncat555
Summary: Letters never sent, to children who listened,  to girl who didn't follow the snake, and boy who never took another's life.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	Writ in silence and shame

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you like it, please comment!  
> This ties in with my River of Ichor story, some headcanons here, sorry if they don't make sense!

I wonder about you, sometimes ( I have no other choice). About the girl I was before all the magic and secrets, all battles and betrayals, or better yet , the girl I thought I had been.

You must have been smarter, or less selfish, or warier, or less susceptible to such sweet and obvious trap , and thus you didn't allow a strange bookkeeper to lure you so far away, from love of your home, to palace under strange sky and unknown soil. That might have made everything much easier for you- Cedric said that free will was needed, for you to cross over, and Phobos wanted you swaddled and coddled in sweet lies until time was right, but that is all they d. They lie. Perhaps he would have just picked you up and carried you over, thrown you in dungeon, kept you drugged and charmed until it was time for you to be hollowed out and cast away, like a shattered doll.

Still, I hope that you you had kept your withs with you in that moment, that you didn’t allow your bitterness to get better of you, that you didn’t forget who your friends and family are because of stupid teen angst. That you went back to them, and learned truth, never saw your world be broken in pieces. That thorns never bound you to throne you thought yours moments ago, and that you didn’t have to learn how weak bonds of blood really are, the hard way (it was valuable lesson, but price was far too steep, not only for you, but for them all- a moment more, the stroke of luck, and darkness would have eaten up the world you are supposed to protect.)

Or even better, that you were smarter from beginning. That you didn’t behave like fool, that you remembered warnings of parents and teachers given hundreds of times, that you were wary of strange old man showing such interest in you. That you talked with Cornelia about what bothered you, that you didn’t allow your insecurity to threaten your friendships. That you realized how strong it was.

~~(That you were deserving of effort and risk they put in rescuing you.)~~

But **still**. That wouldn’t be enough, right? You couldn’t be normal ever. You are an alien! Your parents aren’t human! You have magic, enough magic to burn world thrice over. But you don’t know that. I hope you never have to learn that. I hope math test remains your biggest problem, not mad sorcerers trying to steal your soul so they could conquer universe.

I hope you never have to learn about light bristling under your skin. That your power never awakens. That you never leave Heatherfield, that you never get betrayed. That you never have to learn how to stop stray frown from setting off typhoon, that you never have to discuss sewage plans with royal architect. That you don’t have to leave Earth behind you to save people who never knew you, that you never have to wake up from nightmare about your _brother_ escaping his cell. That you can still be fourteen. That you can be free.

And yet... I pray that someday you come back, to all these wonderful, brave people that have suffered so much, that still adore you. That you can prove yourself worthy of power that was bestowed on you, deserving of their respect. Deserving of loyalty, of sacrifices they underwent to save you, even though they were starving and you played silly in illusions. That you learn how amazing they are.

* * *

I think about you, sometimes (rarely, for I have no use of such foolish ponderings). About boy I should have been, about boy who never accomplished anything. Who was _a good person_.

I never was weak. There was no tragedy, no decisive event that changed me from mold I was supposed to fit in with, to make me in somebody capable enough to grind world beneath my foot . I was always only true to my nature, from beginning to the end, and so I hope that you were born foolish and dumb and helpless, that you didn’t laugh when aunt Primrose spilled hot oil over yourself, that you never fed cousin Vivianne’s cats belladonna, that you were never four and wondering how your mother would look like with slit throat.

( ~~that you never heard roses begging for more)~~

And so I hope that you suffered for it. That you were hollow and shallow and obedient as every proper young man should be, that you spoke when and how you were ordered to. That you buried dreams and hopes and childish fancies until you choked on them, living in life of repressed pleasure and denied education. That you never stole books on magic from library, spied on your cousins learning music. That you never took up painting and turned your white robes brown after day spent in garden. That your hair had never grown past your shoulder blades, and you never hid a Whisperer in it.

I hope that they marry you off when you are young, and that you never bury dozen of brides. I hope that **she** is older then you by forty years, and that your children ( _and may your skin crawl whenever they call you father, for all law makes them hers, may you think how you don’t want them but still never had choice of claiming them_ ) never think of you as anything but their great mother's pretty ornament. I hope that you grow dull and empty trying to be perfect husband, and yet she still cheats, still imprisons you in attic, still claims wealth and prestige and **power** that should have been yours. I hope that she beats you but only in places your mother never sees, because you deserve it, because you are too stupid and weak to find pestle and mortar, and learn how to crush medicine in powder that will dissolve in wine. I hope that your grandchildren laugh and gape at sight of portraits you despised modelling for, and think how only thing you had was your beauty, so easily lost, because you never dared to try your luck with curses and flowers and knives.

I hope that they send you to monastery, not by your choice, but a shameful exile. That they decide you are far too much trouble, and not enough reward for anybody to bother marrying ( _and that it will be your mother’s last kindness_ ). That you shall be hidden behind cold walls and glass, wear your robes and shave your head, silent but when the cruel abbess comes, when she inspects you all. That you will console yourself over never kissing boy under apple tree in spring dusk because at least you aren’t laying with woman old enough to be your grandmother. That you will read boring texts and theology discussions as one of faceless masses, your name taken away from you, as your sister grows strong and ageless and fearsome in her power. That you will forget yourself, and let your magic wither and atrophy, because you were far too weak and stupid to burn it all down.

I hope that mother never got to marry her commoner love, because you were too weak and foolish to burn down harem with all her noble concubines ( _one of them fathered you, if he hadn't become dust and bones by then, and you never asked for his name, and your mother never thought to offer, and he never claimed you, for to sire a firstborn prince is greatest shame, and I hope that he burned, and that he recognized who lit the pyre_ ). I hope that you always swallow down your bitterness when they say how your sister looks so much like your mother, even though she has nothing of her face or her smile, even though their voices and walks are not alike at all, even if light exits her as pale, early dawn and not a brilliant and defiant flame. That your stepfather fears and hates you not because he realizes you can be as intimidating as any royal mistress, but because queen’s firstborn son is better choice for chatelaine of your sister's harem than her aging father. That when Queen is away, his mother will drag you out and promise you to mountains and rivers, to bring back the harvest, that she will tell all those idiots that firstborn prince is bad luck but great autumn sacrifice. That they won’t recover your body, which shall be lost to ravens and worms, and you will be but a footnote in your mother’s tomb, and that your spirit will never find peace but never have strength to haunt living and act on it's rage.

I pray that you never become anything. That you turn pale and tiny, and never become monster, never become anything more then Weira’s failed attempt at daughter, Elyon’s useless brother. That your sister never wields heart of world to imprison you behind stone and water and bars of light, and still dread your release. That you never become anything more then beautiful, obedient, devout, chaste husband and father. That nobody remembers you.

( ~~That a sister won’t dance at your grave. That mother will be proud~~ ).

And...

I hope that only sometimes, you shall stand at your window and hunger for free air of summer’s night, and wonder if flowers can talk.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks everybody for reading! Hope you liked it, please comment!
> 
> I would also want to state that, as we are in state of pandemic, that I pray all of you are safe and healthy, alongside your families, friends and everybody you care. Please keep safe, and I hope that your countries are doing good job of treating sick and preventing spreading, and if not, that it will improve.
> 
> I would also ask everybody to remember that Black Lives Matter, and to be aware of injustice and horrifiying atrocity being perpetuated on our fellow human beings. Please keep yourself aware and try to help in any way you can. If you are capable of contributing to cause, here is lists of actions that could require your help: https://patterns-acnh.tumblr.com/post/619576410575699968/places-to-donate-and-sign-to-support-blm. and if you aren't in situation, no shame, but at least check out this video: https://poguesgold.tumblr.com/post/619746026049421312/how-to-donate-to-blm-when-you-have-no-money
> 
> Also, if you are able to, please help out White Mountain Apache Tribe, who was harshly impacted by Covid-19, in large part due to irresponsibility and apathy of government: https://www.gofundme.com/f/white-mountain-apache-tribe-covid19-relief-fund  
> Alongside Indigenous People who are protesting desecration of sacred lands stolen from Lakota people: https://bhlegalfund.org/


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